


every inch of sanity

by akamine_chan



Series: Drowning Lessons [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank wanders into the lounge, where Gerard is watching something on his laptop, mouth hanging open just a tiny bit, intent as fuck.  His breathing is a little fast and Frank checks—yeah, he's sporting a massive boner.  "I thought Ray'd made a rule about watching porn in public."</p><p>There's a long pause but Gerard doesn't even look at him.  "Only if he's around.  When he's not here, porn's fair game."</p>
            </blockquote>





	every inch of sanity

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a present to my friends on LJ/DW/Twitter for the New Year.
> 
> Beta and major encouragement by Andeincascade
> 
> This story was supposed to be a short edging porn inspired by a video I caught by way of Mistresscurvy. That vid. Um. Yeah.
> 
> Note that I said this was supposed to be a short edging porn. *sigh* Instead, boys. With FEELINGS. Damnit.
> 
> Title from _Drowning Lessons_ by My Chemical Romance
> 
> And OMG speedily made into a podfic by Argentumlupine [here](http://argentumlupine.dreamwidth.org/5272.html). So fucking amazing.

Frank wanders into the lounge, where Gerard is watching something on his laptop, mouth hanging open just a tiny bit, intent as fuck. His breathing is a little fast and Frank checks—yeah, he's sporting a massive boner. "I thought Ray'd made a rule about watching porn in public."

There's a long pause but Gerard doesn't even look at him. "Only if he's around. When he's not here, porn's fair game."

Frank waits and tries to hear what's going on in the video, but the sound is down, too low for Frank to hear _anything_. He tries to peer around, see what kind of action has Gerard so riveted, but somehow he senses Frank's plan and moves away the tiniest bit, angling the laptop so Frank can't see. It's really fucking aggravating.

His curiosity is _killing_ him, so he stops trying to be subtle and just _goes_ for it, plopping his ass down on the couch as close to Gerard as possible and leaning in to see the screen.

Gerard makes an annoyed sound and tries to elbow him away, but his attention is diverted back to the what's happening on the screen. Which—Frank squints and tilts his head and—"What the fuck _is_ that, Gee?"

"Edging." His voice is a little breathless and Frank feels a weird frisson down his back.

He frowns at the tiny picture. "Don't they need knives or some shit for that?" He shakes away the image of one of Gee's sharp knives and pale, unmarked skin.

"Motherfucker." Gerard pauses the video with a vicious poke at the keyboard and turns to Frank. "Not edgeplay, _edging_."

Frank hates this, because he's going to totally lose any sex cred he has, but— "Don't be an asshole. Just tell me what the fuck 'edging' is." He uses the air quotes just to piss Gerard off more.

"Orgasm denial," Gerard mutters. "Bringing someone to the edge and pulling back. Repeatedly." He pushes play and turns back to the video.

"Oh." The rush of arousal is like a punch in the stomach. He swallows hard and shifts away from Gerard a little, because he's suddenly flushed and overheated. From very far away, he hears himself say, "I could do that."

"What?" Gerard tears his eyes away from the laptop and looks at him, forehead wrinkled. "What did you say?"

"I could do that," he repeats, lowering his eyes. He can feel Gerard's gaze on him, measuring, weighing him.

"Fuck you, Frank," he finally says. "Don't start something you're not going to finish."

Frank winces and scuffs at the carpet with the toe of his shoe. Gerard has a point. They've been dancing around this _thing_ between them for years. Whenever Gerard had tried pressing the point, Frank had pulled away, smothering the _want_ that he'd felt under the weight of his friendship for Gerard. He'd hated the flash of disappointment that he'd seen on Gerard's face, but he couldn't risk it.

It's the only thing in Frank's life that he's let himself be a coward about, but the band had been too important to him since the day he'd climbed on a chair to _see_ them over the crowd. The day he had fallen in love with My Chem and all that it's become since then—passion and love and _family_.

He's not sure what's changed, now. Maybe he wants to be the thing that turned Gerard on, be what make him sound like that, breathless and dazed. Maybe it's because thirty is looming over him and he's tired of being alone. Tired of pushing Gee away, though to be honest, Gee gave up on him a while ago. Frank hasn't had to say no in quite some time now and there's something sad and pathetic about that.

"I can do it," he insists, and he finally meets Gerard's eyes.

Gerard arches an eyebrow and looks like he has something to say about it. But he doesn't, he just looks Frank over from head to foot.

Frank has to fight his natural instinct, which is to fidget and twitch and maybe get up and leave before he totally fucks up the best thing he's got going in his life.

"Hotel night tonight," Gerard comments. He tilts his head in thought. "Come to my room after you shower." He shuts the laptop with a decisive click and stands up, looking down at Frank. "If you change your mind, just don't show up." It's clear from the skeptical look on his face that he expects Frank to chicken out, again.

Frank wishes he could protest Gerard's assumption that he won't show, but he can't. He's got a long history of running scared from this—attraction between them. All he can do is nod and hope his courage doesn't fail him before tonight.

Gerard reaches out and touches Frank's bottom lip with his thumb, softly sweeping back and forth. Frank shivers and licks at Gerard's thumb, tasting salt and skin.

"Tonight," Gerard promises, voice rough. "Oh, and Frank? Don't touch yourself unless I tell you to." He leaves Frank alone in the lounge, panting and dizzy with _want_.

"Fuck," Frank says, trying to calm down his racing heart. "Oh, fuck, what am I doing?"

* * *

Of course, his dick is fucking hard. It's been that way since he realized that Gerard was sporting wood in the lounge as he watched his porn. Frank's first inclination is to hop into his bunk and rub one out before sound check. Because he's got this thing about authority, about not doing what he's told and it kinda sets his teeth on edge that Gerard pretty much _ordered_ him not to jerk off. Gerard is not the boss of him.

He knows, as fucking revved up as he is, it wouldn't take long at all. A few strokes while thinking about Gerard touching him and Frank's pretty sure he'll be coming his brains out.

And Gerard will never know, won't suspect, because Frank has a pretty awesome poker face. As long as Gee doesn't _ask_ , he'll be fine.

Except—Frank's shoulders slump. Gerard is totally going to ask Frank if he's touched himself. And Frank can't lie to Gerard. He's tried, over the years, but he's never managed to get away with it. It's like Gerard can see into his soul or some bullshit. It sucks, because his inability to successfully lie to Gerard has been the downfall of many practical jokes. Fuck. He is so screwed.

* * *

Soundcheck is hellish, because it gives his mind a chance to wander. He can do soundcheck in his sleep. Has done it mostly asleep, has done it drunk on more than on occasion, has done it so sick he's on the verge of being carted off to the hospital. It's down to a routine and he spends most of his time casting what he hopes are surreptitious glances toward Gerard and adjusting himself in his pants.

His cock is _aching_ and he's not convinced he's going to make it until after the show without beating off at least once. Really not sure.

He watches Gerard move around the stage, unconcerned and confident and for a moment, the image is briefly overlain by a memory of a younger Gerard, one less sure of himself. The difference is striking and Frank has to marvel again at how far they've come as a band. And as people. It's noticeable in the way Gerard holds himself—that sloppy slouch is gone, replaced by the stance of someone much more secure about his place in the world.

Gee's stage persona has evolved as well, though Frank's tired to avoid thinking about it too much. Gerard's old vibe was all about the angst—vampire, serial killer, outcast. Now it's about being true to yourself, art and _sex_ , Gerard slinking across the stage like a hungry cat.

Frank's tried hard not to notice. He hasn't been too successful.

Some nights the band kicks ass and every note is perfect and the kids take the energy they create and feed it back to them. On those kind of nights it takes them forever to come back down to earth, talking for hours in their sweaty stage clothes, trying to relive and imprint every moment, every emotion.

Other nights, it's Gerard who drives the show with the force of his personality, blazing across the stage and setting the world on fire. On those nights, Frank doesn't get much sleep, because he's too busy jerking off as fast and as hard as he can, over and over until he literally passes out in his bunk, exhausted, hands still wrapped loosely around his sticky cock. He pretends it's enough, but it isn't.

And this afternoon, he doesn't even have the luxury of jacking off. Gerard told him he couldn't and he still can't believe it, but he finds himself doing what he's told.

* * *

Frank can't remember a single thing about the show. That hasn't happened since the last time he went out on stage drunk, which was years and years ago.

He can't remember any of the songs they played, can't remember any of Gee's patter, can't remember if he jumped off the drum riser or hip-checked Mikey or tried to steal Toro's beer. Ray and Mikey are giving him deeply concerned looks, so he suspects that he might have simply stood in one spot and quietly head-banged the night away, hair obscuring his sweaty face.

Or maybe he just rubbed up against Gerard like a cat in heat until security pulled him off and pushed him back toward stage right. The problem is that he doesn't _know_.

"Frankie—" Ray touches his shoulder, worried.

"I'm fine," he murmurs to Ray, watching as Gerard and Mikey head to the dressing room. "Just a little tired." It's not quite the truth, but it's not a lie, either. He's terrified about the step he's about to take; it's going to change everything. He can only hope it's not going to blow up in his face and leave scorch marks on his heart.

Ray touches the back of his hand to Frank's forehead. "You sure?"

Ray is awesome. He always pushes the band to work hard, but takes care of them, too. Frank smiles at him, a lopsided, half-hearted movement of his mouth that is probably not reassuring at all. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay." Ray throws an arm around Frank's shoulders and steers him toward the dressing room. "Let's get some water into you; you're probably a little dehydrated."

"Or something," Frank says agreeably, trying to ignore the fluttering of nerves tightening his stomach.

He's going to do this. He _is_.

He's wanted Gerard since the day they met, but he's always been too afraid. Not just because of the band, but because he's been terrified of losing himself in Gerard's brightness. He's not like Mikey, able to hold his own in the shadows, dark to Gerard's light. And he doesn't shine like Gee.

Frank has to do this, because it's what they've been working their way to this for almost ten years now, one tiny step at a time. It's time to stop being afraid. He just has to stay steady, stay strong and everything will be okay in the end.

"Frank?"

He throws himself at Ray, arms around his waist, hugging him hard. Ray's sweaty and hot and sticky and Frank wouldn't have him any other way. "Thanks."

"Uh, okay, yeah. Sure." Ray's unshakable; he just pets Frank's hair and lets him hold tight.

* * *

Frank takes his time in the shower. He keeps the water cool and washes away several days of show-sweat and grime. He scrubs himself clean, carefully thinking of nothing.

Or trying to, anyway. All he can really think about is how hard his dick is and how easy it would be to reach down and give himself a couple of quick pulls and he'd be done, coming all over the tile walls of the shower, watching his spunk swirl down the drain. He wants to do that.

It irks him that Gerard _ordered_ him to not touch and that he expected Frank to listen. Like Frank's his—his— _submissive_ or something. Frank's not really familiar with kinky stuff, that's more Mikey's scene, but he's been around enough to know he doesn't get his kicks from being ordered around.

Motherfucking Gerard.

He wraps his hand around his cock, just holding tight, biting back the moan that's trying to slip free. It feels so fucking good, he's been hard for so long, maybe he could just—

 _Don't touch yourself_ , Gerard says in his head, voice sex-rough and with a groan, Frank pulls his hand off of his dick and turns off the water. Knowing Frank's luck, he'd jack off and Gee would _smell_ it on him or some hinky shit and then he'd never hear the end of it. He wraps a towel around his waist and stares at himself in the mirror for a long moment, trying to imagine what Gerard sees when he looks at Frank. He traces a finger over the lines of his chest piece, shivering.

"I can't do this," he tells his reflection. Because he can't. The window of opportunity for Gerard and him closed a long time ago and now there's too much at risk. The band is his family, more important than this _thing_ with Gee, and if this goes wrong, if he fucks up, he's going to lose that. He can't risk it. He can't.

And Gerard's made it easy for him. He doesn't have to call to apologize, doesn't have to buy flowers, doesn't have to do anything. Except not show up.

* * *

Frank fidgets in front of Room 348, listening. It's quiet. Maybe Gerard changed his mind. Frank lifts up his hand, takes a deep breath, and knocks quietly.

Time stretches weirdly as he waits. He's half afraid Gerard isn't there, half hoping he is. When the door swings in, he lets out the breath he's been holding. He tries to smile, but he's so wound up and tense that it probably looks more like a grimace.

"Come in." Gerard's voice is bland, giving nothing away. His face is neutral and Frank suddenly realizes that Mikey's not the only Way with a good poker face.

It's Frank's last chance to change his mind. To put a stop to this before it goes any further, to rewind things to the way they were. To keep pretending that Gerard is just a good friend, that Frank loves him the way he loves Mikey, and Ray. Friends and family, nothing more. Last chance and he doesn't even realize it's not an option when his body steps over the threshold.

Gerard shuts the door and crowds Frank up against the wall, burying his nose in the hair above Frank's ear, inhaling deeply. "I've been waiting so long for you, Frankie," Gerard whispers.

The words are warm against his ear and he shivers. "I thought you'd given up." His voice is small.

He steps back and looks at Frank. He tucks some of the longer strands of Frank's hair behind Frank's ears in a strangely tender gesture. "You said no. It seemed rude to keep pushing after that." He sighs. "I just had to wait and hope—"

"Hope?"

"Hope that you'd stop being afraid." Gerard brushes his lips against Frank's forehead.

"Stop being a coward, you mean," he says, with a hint of bitterness.

"That's not what I meant." Gerard cups Frank's face in his strong hands and holds him still as he dips down for a kiss.

It's their first real kiss.

They're not drunk and they're not high. They're not playing to an audience of screaming kids. It's not a dare, or a bet. It's just them.

Just the soft press of lips and it's like coming home.

Gee pulls away and Frank makes a sound, pushing up on his toes to chase after him. "No, please—"

"Shhh. It's okay, Frankie."

And it is, because Gerard kisses him again, with _intent_ this time, licking his way into Frank's mouth, his tongue wet and warm and _wicked_.

* * *

Gerard pulls him further into the room and leaves him standing by the bed while he retreats to the couch, turning off most of the lighting in the room.

"Gee?" He's confused, because he thought—

"Take your clothes off." Gee's eyes are huge in the dimness. "Take them off, for me." His voice ruffles across Frank's nerve endings, making him shudder. He sounds sure of himself, in command, confident.

Frank steps closer, confused and a little disoriented. "But—"

"I want to see you. I've never let myself look."

Frank couldn't believe that. "Never?" He'd looked every chance he'd gotten. Hoarded those memories of pale skin and a wet mouth, pink tongue poking out between lips, talented fingers and strong hands. Those images were the only thing that had kept him sane, some nights, when he'd felt trapped in his own skin, stir-crazy and desperate for the touch of someone else.

Gerard shakes his head. "Couldn't risk it."

"Oh." He pushes his hair out of his face and shrugs out of his shirt, and toeing off his shoes. He didn't bother with socks. He stands in front of Gerard in nothing but his baggy jeans, feeling a little self-conscious. He isn't sure what to do with his hands,

"So gorgeous, Frankie."

Frank exhales the breath he didn't realize he's been holding.

"Turn around for me."

He obeys the whispered words, turning slowly in place, feeling Gerard looking at him and wanting him and reveling in that.

"Love your tats, beautiful art on your skin..." Gerard's voice is hushed, like he's telling a secret. "Want to see if they taste different than the rest of you."

"Gee—"

"Yeah. Take off the rest, Frank."

"You gonna taste them tonight?"

Gerard smiles at him. "Not tonight. I have other plans for you, tonight."

* * *

When Frank had been a kid, he'd had an old boombox he'd inherited from a cousin. It was beat up and partly broken—the on-off switch didn't work any more—but that was fine. Frank would just unplug it to turn it off.

Eventually, it had stopped working and when he went to check to make sure the cord was plugged into the back of the boombox, he got an electrical shock.

He'd pulled his hand back quickly, not because it _hurt_ , exactly, but because the sensation was disturbing in ways he couldn't explain. Made his stomach feel funny. Wiping his sweaty hand on his jeans, he'd reached out again, trying to understand what he'd felt.

There was this space around the cord that felt tingly, kind of like being brushed by a feather, but _inside_ of him, somehow. It made his fingers twitch and set his teeth on edge and there was a funny taste in his mouth, bright and sharp, and the feeling grew and intensified and his breath came in hitches—

He'd pulled away with a gasp and tried to rub the feeling off of his fingers, where it clung for hours.

Gerard is making him feel _just_ like that.

* * *

Gerard is sitting in the corner of the couch, Frank settled between his spread legs. His arms are wrapped around Frank, one hand tweaking a nipple, the other slowly tormenting his dick. Tormenting Frank, really, stroking his dick until he's close to coming and then distracting him by pinching his thigh, scratching his belly, flicking his nipple.

He's fully clothed, which would normally bother Frank, if he had a spare brain cell to think about it. Instead, the roughness of Gee's clothes against his naked back is just another layer of sensation. He doesn't know how much more he can take.

"Gee—"

Gerard ignores him, just keeps stroking his cock lightly, running his fingertips up and down the length of him before cupping his balls. It's almost too much and Frank doesn't have the breath to complain. Gerard has him right on the edge again and all he can do is push his hips up, back arching, trying not to whine as Gee moves his hands away. "Gee," he pants. He doesn't know if he's asking for Gee to stop or to keep going.

Another wave of prickling heat rolls through him and he shudders in Gerard's arms.

"So beautiful, Frankie, so proud of you. Love you so much."

Frank can feel the heat of Gerard's breath against his ear and the words make him gasp. "Fuck, Gee, please—"

"It's gonna feel amazing when you finally come, I promise. Just a little more," he coaxes, touching Frank's cock again, using both hands to tease.

"Oh, God." His voice is broken and his toe are curling and uncurling as he fights to keep from coming. "Please, fuck." He pushes his head back into Gerard's shoulder and moans when Gerard licks his cheek. "Love you, love you—" He chokes on the words when Gerard speeds up his hands, jerking Frank off hard and fast.

"Come on, Frankie. Now."

Frank grits his teeth against the noises he's making, but he's still loud as he comes, his whole body twitching erratically as Gerard strokes him roughly through it. His eyes are tightly shut and his hands are clutching at the sofa cushions. It's too good, it's overwhelming and he tastes blood from where he's bitten hard into his lip.

He makes a wounded sound and tries to pull away when the pleasure starts to bleed away; he's oversensitized and Gee's touch borders on pain.

Gerard gives him a minute or two, lightly touching the sparrows on his hips and humming softly before grasping Frank's dick and starting to stroke him again. It pulls a surprised sound out of Frank, a sort of strangled squawk, but Gerard just ignores him and keeps going.

"Gee, fuck—" Frank is surprised at how quickly he's on the verge of coming again. Gee's hands are slick and he knows _exactly_ how to touch Frank, to make him groan and arch, wanting and needing more.

"Such a greedy boy," Gerard chuckles. "You're so hot like this, Frankie, desperate and falling apart. You going to come for me again? So soon?"

Nodding, Frank spreads his legs further apart and pushes his hips up as he tips over into another orgasm, this one stronger, making him shudder and cry out loudly as each pulse rushes through him. "Fuck," he gasps.

Gerard keeps petting him, ignoring the way Frank tries to move away from his touch. "What's the most times you've ever come at one go?" he asks against Frank's ear.

Frank's panting, a whine underlying every breath. "F—four."

"By yourself, or did you have help?" He pinches a nipple, hard, and Frank groans. "I don't like the idea of other people touching you." Gerard sounds fierce and possessive.

Frank's practically writhing against Gerard; he can feel how hard Gerard is through his clothes, but he's so cool and collected, which is such a turn-on. "By—by myself."

He can feel Gerard smile against his cheek. "Good," he purrs. "Shall we try for five?"

All Frank can do is nod frantically. He wants five and six and forever. With Gerard.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] every inch of sanity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/346939) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine)




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